A Fleeting Bloom

The maiden is lovely and waits for me by the city wall. I love her, but cannot see her; I pace, scratching my head. The maiden is lovely and gives me a red pipe. The pipe gleams; I delight in its beauty. She brings me a young reed from the pasture. It is truly beautiful and rare. It isn't the reed that makes it beautiful, but the gift from my beloved. “The Quiet Maiden,” Book of Songs, Airs of Bei This is a secret history of the Buddhist sect's lineage, a story of intrigue and love.